


Comforting shadows

by wunderwolfer



Series: Dragon Age [1]
Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age II
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-22
Updated: 2013-02-22
Packaged: 2017-12-03 06:52:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/695434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wunderwolfer/pseuds/wunderwolfer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Leliana will do anything not to lose Amell again but will Hawke forget herself to help her. Leliana x F/Amell</p>
            </blockquote>





	Comforting shadows

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: Contains Dragon age origins and Dragon age 2 SPOILERS. Don't read if you haven't finished them. It also contains FEMxFEM pairings so don't read if you don't like it. I mean there's some excellent heterosexual stories on Fanfic so why bother reading this and complaining! It's a good waste of Fanfic time in my opinion.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own Dragon age origins or Dragon age 2. I'm glad, I hate playing games when I know the ending and Bioware games are the best.

The assassin watched the house from the shadow of the alleyway. It was cold and dark. Clouds guarded any chance of moonlight and frost had begun to cover the city until every surface glittered and shone when the light occasionally escaped its confines. The waiting woman hopped from foot to foot stamping her feet not to keep warm but to ward off her mounting agitation. She was surprised by her impatience. She had stood outside countless houses, estates, even castles, patiently waiting to put her carefully laid plans into action. She was never one to rush into anything and found reassurance in watching and manipulating her carefully laid her plans into place. Perhaps her anxiety was due to the dangerous nature of her target or maybe it was her eagerness for the reward she could receive; if she played her cards right.

Her eyes noted movement in the household. Right on time, she smiled. She had been watching the estate for days, learning the nightly routines and habits of the house, and exactly on cue she watched the servant's procession of candlelight move from window to window and then disappear entirely as they retired to their warm comfy beds. She shook her head. That was the good thing about breaking into estates their meticulously punctual routines. It made it so easy it was almost boring.

Her heart began to race slightly and her limbs twitched impatiently for movement but she forced her body to wait a while to ensure that they were fully asleep and having seen the mistress of the house leave a few hours ago she was satisfied that as long as she was careful her entry would go unnoticed. After a good hour she quickly peered out of the alley and checked that the streets were empty, leaned her weight onto her back leg before sprinting towards the house using the forward momentum to place a foot on the wall, leap up and pull herself through the open window before dropping soundlessly into the estate's kitchen. She crouched on the floor and listened for any signs that she had been detected. The estate was shrouded in darkness and remained eerily quiet. They only sound was a low rumbling noise coming from the adjoining room. She had memorised the layout of the estate and moved quickly through the house, her experienced steps quick and light. Entering the main hall she found the source of the noise. A large sleeping Mabari was lying on his back snoring loudly, his legs twitching as he ran through his dreams. She almost felt sorry for drugging those Maibari crunch but the intelligent Guard dog would be awake in a few hours probably furious that the assassin bard had managed to evade him. She crept past the sleeping hound and nimbly climbed the staircase.

Entering the lady's bedroom she slowly closed the door behind her careful not to make a sound. Allowing herself to relax slightly she took a deep breath and turned to survey the room. The candles were not lit but a large fire burned in the heath expelling its light creeping across the surfaces of the room. The heat from the fire made her chapped hands sting and she narrowed her dilated eyes as they adjusted to the light. She had been in more ladies' bedrooms that she would ever admit to anyone and was surprised to find that it was a modestly decorated for a noble's room, a severe lack of feathers and bold colours the woman observed. The only extravagance was a large foreboding bed that dominated the room proudly declaring the room's purpose. Turning from the bed she moved around the room looking over the furniture and opening the cupboards and drawers to scrutinise their contents. A simple desk on the right side of the room held the lady's journal and she flicked through the pages absent-mindedly probably a very valuable item for her employers. She wondered whether she should take it once she had finished with her.

A loud bang shook the serenity of the estate as the front door slammed shut. She froze in shock unsure of what to do and held her breath as she listened for any encroaching steps. She heard the woman's voice talking quietly in the main hall probably to a servant that had got out of bed to greet her. She quickly estimated the amount of time this afforded her. Without looking she threw the diary at the desk and frantically searched the rest of the room for any hidden surprises. Confident that there were none she ran to the heath removed the fire guard and damped down the fire to a slow burn before striding to the darkest part of the room, in the far left hand corner between the wall and a wardrobe. Stepping backwards she let the shadows envelope her. She faced the door waiting for the women to enter. The woman's sudden return had startled her and she tried slowing down her racing heart by breathing deeply and slowly, each breath steadying her anxious nerves. She listened to the stairs creak as the lady slowly ascended the staircase.

Her blonde target entered closing the door quietly behind her. Walking into the room she leaned her staff against the desk, kicked off her shoes and yawned brazenly not bothering to cover her wide open mouth. The masked assassin followed her progress across the room, moving forward slightly from the shadows to peer around the wardrobe. She looked utterly exhausted. Her weary eyes were red from lack of sleep and she stooped heavily as she looked around her bedroom. The Bard watched as the lady slowly crossed the room to the bed, such a contrast to the proud and confident posture the women usually wore. The bard smiled; it pleased her to see the lady so vulnerable; she could never take on the mage otherwise.

Dragging her tired feet across the room the blonde massaged her eyes and looked ready to fall fully clothed onto her soft comfortabe bed. When suddenly she stopped in her tracks pulled her hand quickly away from her face and her eyes snapped back to the desk. The intruder's breath hitched in her throat as she followed the mage's gaze. In her haste to the hide she hadn't realised that the journal had fallen from the desk and she cursed the stupid blunder. She poked her head further out of the shadows as the mage turned her back to her. Moving towards the desk she picked up her journal from the floor and placed it slowly and thoughtfully back on the wooden desk, before turning abruptly with her hands on her hips. The intruder's head quickly snapped back behind the wardrobe with a silent gasp. The primary part of her plan relied upon the element of surprise and if she was found then her scheme would unravel and fail. She held her breath pressing her back into the wall, desperately trying to delve deeper into the shadows that surrounded her as she heard the mage's footsteps stalk towards her.

But instead of confronting the bard she watched the mage move to the fireplace and frown at the unusually low fire and absence of a fire guard. Kneeling down on the hearth with a groan she took a poker to the fire to try and encourage the flames. Unsuccessful she sighed, placed some logs on the fire and held her right hand before them. The intruder breathed out in satisfied relief that she remained undiscovered and watched in fascination as small flames grew from the lady's finger tips before licking down her fingers to collect in the middle of her palm. The fireball grew slowly due to her low mana and the woman noticed that the fatigued mage had begun to sweat with the excursion. She grunted as she turned her head to watch the progression of the spell and flexed her fingers back and forth the motion flattening and curving her palm as the fireball started to throb in her hand.

The fireball grew suddenly forcing light into the dark corners of the room, catching on the metal that adorned her observer's clothing. The ever vigilant lady caught the flash of light in the corner of her eye and yelled in alarm. Falling backwards she scrambled away from the intruder, the fireball sprang from her fingers burning a dark patch into the ceiling. Quickly jumping to her feet she held the blunt poker in front of her threateningly. The armed woman couldn't help but roll her eyes at the lady's improvised weapon. She watched the mage's face flush red with fury and suddenly remembered not to underestimate how dangerous her target was; with or without a weapon.

The mage's eyes burned darkly as she quickly glanced at her staff she had left by her desk. Glad that she had checked the room for any sharp hidden objects the trespasser quickly stepped into the dim light of the fireplace before the lady could move. The woman lifted her right hand upwards towards her covered head, causing the mage to growl in warning at the sudden movement. Such a feral sound to pass the typically polite lips surprised the intruder and she froze for a second before raising her other hand in surrender to stop the mage. She continued the movement of her right hand to the back of head, found the end of the dark scarf that had covered her face and slowly began to unwrap her mask.

Recognising the intruder the Lady lowered her weapon slightly, "You?" She said in astonishment. "What in Maker's name are you doing in my home?" She added angrily.

Leliana only responded with an affirmative nod towards the Champion of Kirkwall. She didn't want to talk and she didn't want the mage to talk either; it would make everything that followed so much easier. She slowly walked towards the surprised apostate until they were barely a step apart and lightly gripped her wrist, moving the other hand to take the poker out of her grasp. Hawke breathed in sharply instinctively tightening her grip.

Why would she trust her she barely knew her?

Leliana gave Hawke her most reassuring smile and kept her eyes on the mage as she slowly unsheathed the daggers on her back using only her forefinger and thumb in a motion that assured the attentive mage that she had no intention of using them and threw them into the far corner of the room, the hidden knives at her hip and in her boot soon following suit. A disarmed rogue was no longer a threat to a powerful mage such as herself and Leliana saw Hawke relax slightly. Curiosity outweighing her anger Hawke watched the bard with a puzzled expression as she took the poker from her hand.

Leliana inwardly smiled. She still had a gift for making people feel at ease even under the most unusual situations. An important and compulsory talent for a Bard assassin; content targets were always easier to manipulate and to kill if the situation called for it. The Orlesian knew that the mage was rarely complacent but a startled and surprised Hawke would be just as easy for to control. She tried not to smile at the small success or the nervous excitement that shook her body as the adrenaline coursed seductively through her veins. She'd forgotten how much she loved the game especially when everyone played along.

Leliana dropped the poker onto the ground but her eyes never left the mage's face and her hand still gripped the lady's wrist. She had finally gotten close enough to the apostate and used the opportunity to examine the woman's face. She had to admit that there were some discrepancies but these could be forgiven; the poor light had helped to veil them. But those large blue eyes should be green; it was painfully irritating and she wondered if she could rectify the problem.

Hawke begun to blush under the scrutiny and proximity of the beautiful red-head and began to step backwards. The action forced the assassin to move faster. She grabbed hold of the mage's collar and quickly closed the gap between them pulling her forwards for a kiss.

Unreciprocated and short, Hawke pushed Leliana gently away by the shoulders astonished by the stranger's actions "What the bl..."

The bard held a finger to the mage's lips to silence her. The kiss had the desired affect and stunned the Champion. Leliana used the opportunity to lightly grab the mage's arms, manoeuvring her gently until her back faced the only light source in the room. Hawke's eyes dulled until their colour was indistinguishable and the affect was astounding. Leliana felt a force grip her heart and gasped as a ghost appeared. She smiled as she reached out to gently stroke the warm cheek, her face filling with love for a dead woman.

Hawke's watched the loving expression on the stranger's face and her large eyes widened as she realised the bard's intentions; the pirate or Bodham must have told her of her striking resemblance to the woman. The bard watched the empathy and pity wash over the Champion's features. She had experienced so much grief and tragedy in her life, enough to rival her own.

* * *

"She lost her sister while fleeing the blight in Lothering. And her Mother was killed a few years ago. Bad business with a blood mage, found her body too" Bodham said sadly.

Leliana nodded sadly in sympathy. She had been surprised to find out that her old friend was working for the Champion of Kirkwall and had eagerly sought him out. Her objective as set by the Divine Justinia V herself was to investigate the tense situation between the mages and templars of Kirkwall. The ways things were progressing revolution was inevitable without a Viscount so it made sense that she found out where the Champion's loyalties lay. A strange coincidence that she should find the same Dwarfs who had aided the Hero of Ferelden serving the Champion of Kirkwall.

She told him that she was in Kirkwall to visit the Chantry and thought she'd visit her old friends while she was in the city. It had saddened her to lie to him but better that then pull him into political concerns. Who knows what the Reverend Mother would ask her to do if she saw Hawke as a threat to the Chantry. And she would do it too without question.

Bodham had welcomed her kindly almost crying with happiness at meeting his friend again. He insisted she stayed for lunch at the estate and she was hesitant until he explained that they were quite lonely with the mistress in Sudermount and would be grateful for the company. Orana made them a splendid lunch in the Kitchen and happily left the friends to their chatter.

"You were in Lothering just before the blight weren't you. Maybe you knew them?" Bodham continued as he watched her thoughtfully.

"I don't think so. Hawke wasn't it? I can't remember any families with that name." She watched Bodham's unusually pensive expression and wondered whether he suspected her real objectives. She alleviated the awkwardness by tickling Sandel who sat next to her until he giggled with glee.

"Enchantment!" He shouted excitedly making Leliana smile while Bodham remained thoughtful and quiet.

After lunch Leliana requested a tour of the estate and Bodham was happy to show her. He paraded her through each room his chest swelling with pride as he explained in detail the great changes they had made since Hawke's family had acquired the estate. Leliana listened carefully watching his unwavering smile as he led her through the estate and felt a warm delight at having found her friend in such a happy position.

The last room he took her to was the library where the lady spent most of her time, Bodham explained. She looked around the in amazement. The lady obviously had a great passion for reading Leliana had never seen such a large private collection. Each shelf was crammed full of books and piles of them had begun to collect on the floor and desks. The bard was impressed by the large collection but she did not have any interest in written tales, verbal accounts were so much more personal and engaging. She casually glanced over some of the titles. Mostly about Magi and many of them banned by the Chantry she noted. There was also some fictional tales all of them brooding romances or exhilarating adventures. She arched an eyebrow and rolled her eyes finding it funny that such a woman would want to escape an exciting reality for a fictional one.

Bodham cleared his throat to gain her attention and she turned from the bookshelves to find him standing below the family portraits with an apprehensive frown. She looked at the paintings immediately recognised their features. She didn't recognise Hawke's father, Bodham had said he had died before she was in Lothering, but her sister and mother had often attended the Chantry services.

She nodded miserably as she realised the implications. "Yes I knew them. In Lothering they went by Oakes" she explained. Probably to avoid inquisitive Templars she speculated to herself. "Bethany often attended my recitals at the Chantry such a caring and friendly girl." She swallowed forcing down the lump that rose in her throat. Another good soul lost to that blasted blight.

"She commissioned the painting of her sister as soon as she was granted the estate. She was very pleased with the likeness." He pointed to the next picture of a young man who Leliana didn't recognise. A handsome man though his face was unsmiling and his jutting jaw arrogant and proud. "Her brother Caver and Bethany's twin. He is a Templar in Kirkwall," he said rather curtly.

Leliana's face remained nonchalant but she was astonished by this new information. The apostate's brother is a templar! She knew that there was more to that story but she didn't press the Dwarf. It was obvious that he didn't like the young master and he was too loyal to reveal too much of his mistress' private life.

"Do you remember the Mistress?" He pressed. Leliana was too busy looking at the portrait and barely acknowledged the question with a negative response. She scrutinised the portrait of the Templar as if it could provide her with clues to the Champion's allegiances. How would this affect the situation in Kirkwall? She would have assumed that an apostate would favour the circle mage's bid for freedom but then this would mean apposing her brother and even placing him in danger by encouraging the revolutionists. Or perhaps he was placed in the order as a spy she mused.

"There is a portrait of her over here," he said apprehensively walking behind her to the opposite side of the room. "But Serrah I must warn you.."

Leliana rolled her eyes at the title and turned with a smile ready to reprimand her friend for his formality. But then she saw her painting. All thoughts and actions ceased and she gasped in shock as she felt the heavy hit to her chest at the sight.

"Her mother's maiden name was Amell. They were cousins," he said quickly. He didn't have to explain who he referred too. She became light headed and her legs buckled beneath her. Staggering slightly the Dwarf grabbed a chair from the desk and sat her down.

"They never met. Hawke's family protected her and her sister from the circle" he softly explained as he rubbed Leliana's hand trying to console her. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have shown you. I thought it better to tell you in case your saw her in the city" he said sadly. "The similarities are disturbing and it took me many months to...adjust. I know how close you were to her. I thought you should know. I'm sorry."

Leliana barely heard the Dwarf as she stared at the painting. The young woman glared down at the bewildered bard. Dressed in the armour of a mage she sat on a low chair, one hand loosely held a rolled scroll on her lap and the other tightly gripped a elaborate wooden staff which dug into the ground beside her. The chained walls of Kirkwall rose from a stormy sea behind her, menacing and dark. Her expression was proud and poised but her face was so familiar. Below the painting a plaque read, 'A gift from the people of Kirkwall to their Champion'. Leliana's mouth dried and she tried to swallow the dizzy wave of nausea that passed through her body as she doubled over in her seat clutching her stomach. Bodham quickly left to fetch her some water.

Leliana had no image of her grey warden and as the years passed since her death she felt the warden slowly slip from her memory. Every person she met that reminded her of the warden and every preposterous story spouted by the storytellers, distorted and altered her memory until even she wasn't even sure what was fact and what was fiction. But the Champion's resemblance was so striking that the truth of Amell's features came back like a hard grip around the bard's throat. Her eyes hesitantly lifted back to the portrait. The Champion loomed over her, ridiculing her inability to hold on to the cherished memory. She sobbed in anguish and her heart beat raced in her chest. She stood suddenly on her trembling legs in an atempt to shake off her anxiety but the ferocity of her distress only increased as whispering voices seemed to speak in her ears mocking her misery and guilt. How could she have been so unfaithful? How could she forget her? She tried to swallow and breath but the imaginary grip around her throat seemed to tighten. Her vision began to blur and the colours and lines of the painting twisted and merged distorting the mage's face into a menacing grimace. She gasped as she tried to breath in vain. Clutching her chest her eyes rolled back and she slipped gratefully into peaceful quiet darkness.

* * *

She had to find out more about the apostate. For her investigation she told herself.

Varric Tethras her sources told her, he was the dwarf to see if you wanted to hear tales of the apostate and she found him at the Hanged Man in Lowtown. Leliana was pleased to find a kindred spirit; he was a warm, funny, quick witted and had a genuine passion for storytelling. Leliana had a great skill is being able to read people quickly. She determined he was too intelligent for lies so she gently bent the truth. She told him she was a musician that had come to Kirkwall under the order of her client in to compose a Ballard of the Champion's adventures.

Leliana ensured that the Dwarf's tankard remained full and in return he was happy to recount the apostates's rise to power. Varric was an amazing and charming narrator. His tale was rich and engaging, full of complex characters, villains and victims, betrayals, tragedies and victories. The bard could tell he had embellished some of the tale but Leliana was too engrossed in the tall tale to query him. She gasped as the mage felled the orge, growled as Caver betrayed her sister and cried when she found the remains of her mother. He finished his story with the illustrious mage defeating the mighty warrior Arishok, saving her love and also the city of Kirkwall. She smiled dreamily at the romantic ending but a moment of doubt flashed across her mind as she realised who he was talking about.

"The Rivaini Captain Isabela?"

"You've heard of her?" He raised an eyebrow.

"I have heard of her...reputation. A friend of mine met her once." She remembered Amell telling her at how she met the Captain while in Denerim. The maiden had blushed and giggled as she recounted the lusty Captain's proposition at the campsite, carefully watching the Bard's expression. But Leliana didn't find it funny in the slightest and stormed back to her tent. It was in this moment that Leliana realised that her feelings for the mage were more than friendship. She hid her anger from the mage but privately raged with jealousy and hated the pirate she had never met.

"Ah." The Dwarf chuckled knowingly at her expression and pointed to the next table. A beautiful dark haired wench was lounged across a sailor's knee, laughing and joking with the crowd of men and women who swarmed around her. Like moths round a flame. More like wasps round sugar water. Noticing her staring the pirate winked suggestively at the pretty redhead who cursed the involuntary blush that rose to her cheeks.

She turned angrily on the Dwarf feeling betrayed and cheated. "But..you said...didn't the Champion fight the Arisok for her. You said they loved each other!" She pouted.

"Hey" Varric chuckled as he raised his hands in surrender," As every good storyteller knows the tips are always better with a happy ending." The smile fell from his face as he watched the Captain kiss the sailor hungrily, before pulling down the man standing behind her to kiss him too. "But in life those conclusions are hard to come by," he turned his sad eyes back to Leliana "Why wouldn't I want some happiness for my friends even if it is a fabrication."

She nodded sadly. Reality has not been kind to either of us Hawke. She shook her head at the woman's stupidity. She couldn't understand why the pirate would dally with these indifferent suitors when there was a good woman who loved her. Her heart sank with empathy. Not only did the Champion have the anguish of losing her entire family but she had the sorrow of unanswered love. She wondered what was worse, to have lost her love or to have her love so painfully ridiculed.

Varric interrupted her musing, "So, musician how about an artistic exchange? A story for a story, from one teller of tales to another." Varric leaned back in his chair touching the tips of his fingers together thoughtfully. "You say you're just from Ferelden. How about...'The tragedy of the bard and her grey warden'. I've heard it's a popular song in the country." He smiled pleasantly at the red-headed bard his intelligent eyes watched her every expression with interest.

Does he know who she is?

The song had indeed become famous, ever since she had composed and regaled it for the royal court at Amell's memorial. It had been nearly a month since she had died and Leliana still mourned deeply for her. Her body felt wasted and tired, she was sick of waking up alone, sick of all the crying, sick of all the sleepless nights but she was determined to speak the truth and honour the women and not a legend.

She remembered the performance well, standing alone in the middle of the court her heart racing wildly with stage fright. Closing her eyes she held back the nauseous rumblings in her stomach by imagining that she sang only to her. She sung of their love that grew from their meeting in Lothering and ended with the warden's sacrifice at Denerim and she sung of her lament and her loss for the fragile woman that had died for them all. Her fantasy was broken when the ballad ended and the audience erupted into applause.

Leliana was exhausted by the ordeal. It was the first time she had spoken of the warden in the past tense as she furiously refused to discuss her with her friends. She was angry at everyone; at her friends for not saving her, at herself for not stopping her and at the maker for taking her. Speaking of her in the past felt like a betrayal, as an admittance that she was dead and it left her feeling empty and lost.

King Alistair had silently cried during the song and at the outro had unashamedly hugged the bard in gratitude for the memories it had invoked. She stood still and frozen by the action. Out of the companions Leliana had despised him the most for her death even though she knew in her heart he was blameless. She knew the tale they had told her; fully intent on killing the Archdemon he raised his sword for the final blow but Amell had used a paralyze spell to stop him and had charged the demon herself. The letter she left for Leliana had told her that she had already dreamt of her death even before Riorden had told them of the grey warden's true purpose and she had sadly accepted her fate, her only regret was the short time they were together. The bard remembered all the times the mage had woken screaming from her nightmares and all the times she had cried as Leliana spoke of their future lying that her tears were in happiness. The warden had known all the time and yet she had let Leliana unknowingly place her heart in a doomed relationship. Her death left her changed, angry and hardened. She realised that her anger towards her friends was misplaced, the one she hated was Amell.

Alistair held the bard closely and Leliana felt her resolve slip away as they cried together. He had loved Amell as a sister blaming himself for her death and their mutual grief had given the bard some comfort for a while. But her sadness was keen and her anger was arduous so she retreated to the only other place she had ever found peace, happy to find that the Reverand Mother could use her abilities and pleased that her mind could be kept busy. She hadn't sung since that night, the joy and music had left her.

Was the request for the ballard a coincidence or did he know her true identity?

Maybe she was more renowned then she gave herself credit for. She successfully concealed her surprise at the Dwarf's request and gave him her sweetest smile. "I'm afraid my voice is not at its best tonight and needs its rest. But I do know a tale that involves the Hero of Ferrelden. Do you know the saga of the Paragon Branka and her love the warrior Oghren?" Varric shook his head leaning forward with interest. Satisfied she had distracted his attention she began her narrative. "My story begins in the Dwarfen city of Orzammar dug deep into the Frostback mountains..."


End file.
